<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>I Expected This Reception by Forgotten_Lighthouse_Of_Flowers</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23426860">I Expected This Reception</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Forgotten_Lighthouse_Of_Flowers/pseuds/Forgotten_Lighthouse_Of_Flowers'>Forgotten_Lighthouse_Of_Flowers</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Eyes of Silk and Paper [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Body Horror, Cane User Jonathan Sims, Canon typical Elias being a bad boss, Corruption!Jon, Gen, Moth!Jon, Moths, Mottephobia, Not really a meet-cute, Now with more moth, Pre-Season/Series 01, more of a meet-awkward, no beta we die like men</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 10:15:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,467</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23426860</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Forgotten_Lighthouse_Of_Flowers/pseuds/Forgotten_Lighthouse_Of_Flowers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"You'll have to get used to it, there's no turning back now," he muttered.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Elias Bouchard &amp; Jonathan Sims, Jonathan Sims &amp; Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood &amp; Jonathan Sims, Sasha James &amp; Jonathan Sims</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Eyes of Silk and Paper [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1685167</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>226</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I Expected This Reception</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Part two aka author writes 1000 words of Jon being good at interacting with moths, and another 1000 of Jon being bad at interacting with people. </p><p>(Title is once again a quote from "Frankenstein")</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>All throughout the trip to his apartment Jon felt something new, it wasn’t excitement or the flutteriness he was so used to now. It was more of an anxiousness? A buzzing energy beneath his skin that had nothing to do with the colony living in it. The entire interview was tense and Jon would allow himself to admit, he was rather scared of Elias Bouchard. He knew he had put himself at risk when entering the Institute, he knew no matter how human he passed the Watcher would see right through him, he had been told that to be subjected to the Eye to be deconstructed and Seem was harrowing and brought many to their breaking point, yet he still went. It was a foolish gamble in retrospect, the Eye could have easily rejected and destroyed him, but he had walked away alive and well enough. On top of that he now had employment, a way to find the explanations he was seeking and a Patron. </p><p>He wondered what having a Patron really meant. He had talked to others who served under the Fears, those that didn’t want to kill him on sight at least, and they spoke of rightness and belonging. Could the Eye really provide him that even though he was a creature of the Corruption? From what information was divulged to him, The Eye was one of the more passive of Entities, feeding of Knowing and being Seen. And in a lot of ways, Jon felt that for him it was quite appropriate, but the worry still lingered.</p><p>Applying as a Researcher had been the easiest choice, Jon had always been of the inquisitive sort, and that only got worse after the incident. It wouldn’t be much of a change in lifestyle for him, it’d just add a sense of formality to it, and the research would no longer be for his benefit alone. It was rather exciting actually. </p><p>The moths thought so too.</p><p>“Alright, alright,” Jon said as he entered the apartment, locking the door behind him.</p><p>He felt the colony move and flutter around in his chest. They may enjoy having a host body, but also never took too well to being cooped up for long. It tickled rather unpleasantly. </p><p>Checking to make sure all the curtains were closed as a precaution, Jon set his cane in its usual spot next to the door and tugged off the hair tie he’d always kept on his wrist. He made quick work of leaning down and tying up his hair, leaving the exit and entry point carved into his neck exposed. The colony began to leave eagerly and Jon shivered at the thousands of small bodies fighting and itching to break free. They burst forth in a cloud of wings and impatience. Some settled on the furniture, some on the walls and others left themselves to fly lazy circles around his ceiling.</p><p>Some stayed behind as always, especially the one he’d shown to Mr Bouchard, which was fair enough. </p><p>Long ago the whole ordeal sickened him, now it was just a part of his routine to set them free to roam as much as possible. It was like releasing a much needed breath, and he allowed himself to gracelessly flop onto the settee to accomodate for it. </p><p>“Quite a day we’ve had, haven’t we?” he said good naturedly and smiled at the returned waves of general affirmation. He then felt a pinch against his chest and an angry squeak reverberated inside him. The moth he’d shown to Mr Bouchard definitely had some things to say on the matter</p><p>“Hey now it was as unpleasant for me as it was for you, but it had to be done.” </p><p>More squeaking, stubborn little moth. </p><p>The thing was that the moths didn’t think the way he did. They could all think as an organised unit of host and colony, or the colony could think by itself, but each individual also had enough of a conscience to form its own memories and opinions. And this one happened to have a lot of opinions on being exposed to the Eye at Jon’s request. </p><p>The colony didn’t feel the need to have any particular connection with some Entity despite being of one, they just wanted a host that Jon was suitable to provide. They were content while Jon was left blundering for answers. At least they provided much needed company. </p><p>“You’ll have to get used to it, there’s no turning back now,” he muttered. </p><p>The squeaking ceased but Jon was sure he was still going to be subjected to the buzzing wrath of the little moth. </p><p>There was still plenty of daylight left, and it’s not like Jon kept to a regular sleeping schedule, so he resided himself back to the notes he’d already had typed up. He brought the laptop from his coffee table and rested it on a pillow he had placed on his lap. </p><p>Over the time he had spent trying to figure out what sort of eldritch underground world he’d been thrown into, Jon had made plenty of files to document his thoughts and findings. He was rather proud of the notes if he could say so himself. They weren’t exactly cork boards and red string but they were well organised, and would most likely expand now that he had been given access to a trove of information on the Entities. </p><p>A notification popped up on the bottom of his screen. An email from the Institute had come through and he read through it passively. Most of the information he’d already known from extensive research on the place and available departments, after all he didn’t want to go in blind with how dangerous it all was under the surface.</p><p>He opened one of his folders titled “The Magnus Institute” and created a new document for “Findings”. He’d think of a better name later. </p><p>A moth landed on his cheek, and began tapping delicately at the skin with its forelegs. It hummed inquisitively about what would come next, and the colony shared the sentiment. Jon smiled and caressed it gently with his finger. </p><p>“We’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we.” </p><p>-</p><p>For his first day Jon had decided to go with a more careful approach. Normally he’d just let his hair flow freely and call that sufficient covering, but this was different. He was going to be in an office with people he had to work with, he’d have to look professional enough, and loose hair came with distractions. However on top of that he had no desire to have it announced that there was a hole in his neck, and then have to explain how and why. It would get messy. </p><p>To accommodate for those factors as best as he could, he sectioned off the top and lower half of his hair and pulled the top part into a braid, something he was thankful to have learned from Georgie. She’d always struggled styling her hair when it got long, so Jon had become a fairly good hairdresser for her sake. </p><p>The moths were all already settled comfortably, having early been fed a breakfast of honeyd toast. Food was more annoying than anything these days. Jon didn’t feel hunger anymore, not having a stomach and all that, but the little buggers were almost always hungry, and Jon would rather not have to deal with them swarming and begging him for food. For that reason too he’d also stashed plenty of sugary snack bars in his messenger bag, along with lunch and other work necessities.</p><p>The route to the Institute was as blissfully busy as a normal commute. Jon may not have liked finding himself pushed and shoved in crowds, especially with his bad leg, but at least no one ever paid him any mind when they were all busy to get somewhere. </p><p>The Institute was a small building, yet it loomed over him just as much as it did the previous day, but it didn’t feel as daunting as last time. Maybe not welcoming yet, but time would tell, after all he was to be a servant of the Eye. He could feel it Looking at him the second he entered the threshold, it was painfully heavy no matter if he was prepared for it. At least when he walked towards the front desk with the same confident pace, he could say it matched a shred of his stupor. </p><p>“Hello,” the receptionist said, “how may I help you Mr-?” </p><p>“Jonathan Sims, I’m the new researcher, I start today.” </p><p>“Ah yes Mr Sims.” She began thumbing through a notebook and Jon gripped his cane tighter out of habit. </p><p>“Jonathan!” came a voice down the hall. </p><p>Jon would never say he found the face of Mr Bouchard particularly welcoming, no matter if it was the only familiar one next to Ms Matthews. Especially because that was the second time he’d cropped up unannounced and energetic. Maybe that was normal here, but even so it made the colony restless. </p><p>“Punctual we are, I see. Hello Rosie, need not to worry, I’ll get Jonathan here down to the Researchers facility and help him get set up. I happened to have a clear schedule today as it was.” </p><p>“Oh! I see, right then,” the receptionist- Rosie, replied.</p><p>“Be seeing you, come along then Jonathan.” </p><p>Jon didn’t like the way Mr Bouchard said his name either, like he was forcing tar through his teeth and masking it behind a chipper attitude. But he didn’t say anything. </p><p>He followed the man down the halls, memorising any noteworthy crevices for emergencies. It wasn’t a complicated trip, and Jon had already looked at floor plans and any available information on the building itself, he would feel confident enough navigating it. They soon came upon an open door with a plaque on which the faded words  “Research Department” were carved. </p><p>Inside, two pairs of eyes - belonging to a man and woman -  turned from their devices and papers to look at him, and Jon resisted the urge to glare in response, instead focusing on the few empty desks. </p><p>“This is Jonathan Sims,” Elias said to the other two, earning a “hello” and a “welcome”, “he’ll be joining us starting today so I’m sure you’ll make him feel welcome. Now then Jonathan, pick a desk and you’ll be set for, I’m sure you’ll want to get started as soon as possible hm?” </p><p>He gestured to a folder he’d been carrying, not unlike the one that held Jon’s contract. </p><p>“Yes I suppose so,” Jon muttered and chose a desk tucked into the corner of the room, as out of sight as it could possibly be. He set his cane beside it and put his bag down. </p><p>“Excellent, if anything should be of issue I’m sure the others will be happy to offer aid, and you can always send me an email for further questions. You’re already in the systems, the link to the servers and all relevant information should have come through some hours ago. Here are your first assignments, I’ll leave you to get on with those then, cheerio,” Elias finished by setting the folder down and waved himself out of the room, leaving it in silence. </p><p>Jon said nothing despite feeling the eyes of the other Researchers still upon him. He tried to remain as civil looking as possible as he brought out his stuff and finally sat down. He took no time in organising himself and beginning his assignment. </p><p>Or at least he tried to, it was only half an hour or so later Jon was roused from the state of mind he was trying to slip into by heavy footfalls.</p><p>Another man skidded into view and almost collided with the doorway. He was rather stout with curled blonde hair that could be considered borderline ginger, round spectacles and a light dusting of freckles. His cheeks with tinged pink and his breath was coming out in short, deflated puffs. </p><p>“Martin!” one of the other researchers, the lady, exclaimed, “I was about to call you, thought you wouldn’t make it in today.” </p><p>“Sorry Sasha-“ came the puffed response, “missed the bus- lot’s of people!” </p><p>“So what, you decided to run?” the other man responded, voice heavy with good natured humour. </p><p>“Alright Tim- not the smartest move I get it.”</p><p>Martin slumped at one of the other desks, already occupied with papers and began attempting to steady his breathing. He still had day paid Jon any notice, and Jon looked away, opting to just listen as he catalogued names. Tim, Sasha, Martin. Well it would make things easier in the future to remember them.</p><p>“Has Elias said anything?” that was Martin again, not as breathy anymore.</p><p>“Well no but I wouldn’t be counting my blessings, he was just showing Jonathan here around.”</p><p>After Tim’s words there was a pointed silence, which Jon realised was aimed at him. When he gave up on trying to wait it out, he looked up to find all eyes were on him again. </p><p>Martin’s expression showed more shock than Jon was sure he wanted to let on, as he’d only noticed he was there, and the others were looking at him expectantly. </p><p>“Hello,” Jon managed. </p><p>Apparently that had come across as an invitation, as the man now known to be Tim had gotten up and sauntered (yes ‘sauntered’ was really the most accurate way to describe his motions) over to Jon’s desk and stuck out his hand. </p><p>“Now that everybody is here, and since Elias didn’t go through the trouble of introducing us: hi, Timothy Stoker, but call me Tim, nice to meet you. Over there is Sasha James and that’s Martin Blackwood.” He finished by gesturing accordingly to the other two. </p><p>Jon took the hand gingerly and had to keep himself from yelping at Tim’s firm handshake. </p><p>“Pleasure,” and before he could stop himself, “just Jon is fine.” </p><p>“So Jon, what brought you to work here? Willing to share some backstory with the class.”</p><p>“Not particularly,” Jon snapped immediately. The charisma melted off of Tim’s face and his smile drew into a silent ‘oh’. </p><p>“Right, um well then best be getting back to work. Like Elias said if anything comes up-”</p><p>“I’ll reach out, yes.” </p><p>Jon watched out of the corner of his eye as Tim sat back down, and Sasha reached over to slap him on the arm. Martin was still staring, looking generally uncomfortable as a bystander. Later both would try to apologise for Tim’s ‘forwardness’, and Jon would only respond with a vague nod of acknowledgement. </p><p>He didn’t have time for socialising. After all, once he’d done the work he was set, he could begin the real research, and nothing was going to keep him from that, not anymore. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Spare a kudos or a comment maybe?</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>